A meeting with the Governor

“Look at this man” said Moses, as he pulled the steering wheel of the Toyota Probox (our current preferred – only – mode of transport around Kisumu), “he has all of the material for a house!”

I looked up, to see a motorbike winding its way up the Kakamega road, pieces of wood strapped across its back. 

Sideways.

Any further to the left and he would have run a great scythe through the ambling pedestrian marketgoers, heading towards Mbale with their baskets empty, ready to stock up on fruit and vegetables, marram grass for the cows and all manner of interesting new and second-hand wares.

Any further right and he would have been sent spinning by the matatus that ply this route between Kisumu and the towns of  Kakamega and Eldoret to the north.

Moses carefully steered us around the precarious load and we continued on our way.

We were heading to Kakamega, to meet up with Collins, one of our students and a former street boy from the fellowship at the rubbish dump at Kachok.

Collins is now at university in Kakamega. More specifically, he is at the Masinde Muliro University of Science and Technology (though I was told I was allowed to call is “Mmust” (pronounced “Moost”), since that is what everyone shortens it too).

We had headed north from Kisumu this morning, climbing out of the lake basin on a beautiful new road, built by Chinese contractors to connect Kisumu with the northern towns of Kakamega, Kitale and on, very much further, through the Turkana lands by the Jade Sea to South Sudan. It is part of a major government effort to connect the key towns and routes in Kenya with improved transport links. I have to say, that it is hugely welcome.

I have travelled these roads for many years and it has never been so easy or so smooth. Though there is work left to do, particularly in the small towns on route, where widening has affected the kiosks and businesses that line the roadside, the rural upgrade is largely complete. As a result, motorbikes carrying ridiculous and improbable loads no longer have them shaken loose and distributed dangerously across the highway. Oh no. Now the motorbikes can get up to speeds of 40 or 50 mph and shake the loads off on their own!

We arrived, unshaken, in Kakamega town at 12:30 – exactly as we had agreed. We called Collins, who now lives off-campus, and he joined us the requisite 20 minutes later.

It was a joy to see him.

Collins is a bright bundle of energy and enthusiasm. He began his university life almost four years ago now, unsure what to make of the environment and finding his feet. He is now in his final year of an education degree, majoring in Biochemistry. He hopes to go on to become a teacher. Or a researcher at one of the many laboratories in Western Kenya. Or a lab technician.

The truth is, a degree from a good university (Collins is hoping for a 2:1) will open doors for him into a job and a career, whether in teaching or research or whatever. It is just brilliant that he has the choice. 

I wrote of Daniel yesterday and Collins life has followed a similar path, from the dump at Kachok, through Kisumu Boys to university. 

Education has opened up a world of possibilities for someone who could see no future.

We walked through the university grounds, past the new science block and the library when a group of three young men approached us. “Hey Governor”, they said to Collins, “how are you?”

“I’m fine” he replied, shaking their hands warmly.

“These are my friends” he said, turning to Moses and I, before introducing us to them. We shook hands (the traditional greeting in Kenya).

“You called him Governor?” said Moses

“Yes”, they replied, “he is a good speaker and debater, he will make it”.

In Kenya, governors run the districts – “they are the CEO’s” Moses told me – “they have the power to make people’s lives better”.

There are elections in August this year, presidential, senate, governor and local assemblies will all be changed. Collins has attended a number of political meetings and debates. He is bright, intelligent and engaged, with a desire to improve the life of his community.

I felt very proud.

We headed back to Kisumu, down the Chinese highway, with its speeding matatus and unbalanced motorcycles.

“Another one”, said Moses, as we headed downhill, pulling the steering wheel again, this time to avoid a bike laden with Marram grass, just purchased at the market, intended for cattle feed on a smallholding not big enough to support grazing.

“People need proper transport and delivery services” Moses said.

“Perhaps one day”, I thought, “there will be a Governor who could organise that”.

If you have stress when you dance like this ….

I woke to a refreshing breeze coming off Lake Victoria. I had slept fitfully, dogs barked in nearby compounds, hippo’s grunted amongst the shallow water hyacinth and bullfrogs maintained a steady chorus of calls throughout the night. I wandered downstairs (the lifts, inevitably, are “out of order”) and into the dining room of the hotel for breakfast. A smiling face greeted me. “Welcome back Tim”, she said, “we have missed you”.

This is why I like coming to Sunset. It is a hotel whose best days seem to be behind it, but the grounds are lush with tropical trees and foliage, brightly coloured birds sing amongst the purple jacarandas and monkeys wander through the trees from the nearby park. But most of all, it’s the people. There is always a smile, always a greeting and it always feels nice. The chef cooked me an egg, “Fried”, she said, “but softly”. It reminded me of my English skin in the equatorial sun – fried, but softly!

Refreshed by hot tea and toast, I sat on the terrace and waited for Moses, who collected me exactly on the regulation 20 minutes after the time we had agreed.

We took to the dusty streets of Kisumu, making our way through the busy market traffic to Kibos. There has been a revolution in the roads in Kisumu. Chinese contractors have built new flyovers connecting the airport road with Nairobi road and with Kondele, the busy suburb we pass through on route to our home in Kibos. It saves many minutes of fighting through aggressive matatu drivers and avoiding stray tuk tuks wondering across the roads to avoid pot holes and speed bumps (it always amuses me how people fly over the speed bumps but slow down and edge cautiously around the potholes). Maybe the council has a strategy! As I say, it saves many minutes – or it would do if people actually used the right side of the road, didn’t jump out of every junction, didn’t pile their motorcycles and boda bodas with every conceivable and improbable item of furniture.

Thirty minutes after the agreed time we arrived in Kibos. It didn’t matter, it never does, it’s just my Englishness that understands time in a different dimension and tries to adhere to it. 

Maybe I will learn, one day!

We entered the church at Kibos and I walked towards my usual seat at the front right of the church, greeting familiar faces and new friends as I arrived.

Then Nellie got up, Benson took his place on the keyboard, Moses on the guitar and the music started. And the praise started. And the dancing started. And the time … well, it didn’t matter. Nellie has sung worship in the church ever since it was started, around 12 years ago. I love her passion and her movement, she sings with her whole body, the rhythm is projected in her song and in her dance and it is infectious. Moses once told me that I dance “like a muzungu (a white man - I don't think it was a complement!)”, but I don’t care, I clap and, when I recognise a song, I sing along too.

Then Moses took the microphone and began to sing, clap, dance, jump around and everything else. He must have been cooking in his suit, (perhaps softly!), but he led worship with joy. “you cannot dance like this and have stress”, he cried out through the microphone, “if you dance like this and have stress you will need 50 litres of anointing oil!”. I laughed and laughed.

When the worship was done I greeted the church, passed love and thoughts from all in the UK, from Pam and from Nicky, from Harry and Madeleine, who went last year, from Rebekah, who's raising money for an outdoor classroom, from the members of Ackworth Boys Brigade who will be going out again in October (they can’t wait to see you again!), they were joyful to know that they are in our thoughts and our prayers. And suddenly it felt, well, less like a trip and more like a family.

I preached a message from Matthew 5 and Moses led us in prayer. Two men who had come for the first time then greeted the church (visitors always get invited to the front to say hello). The said who they were, that this was their first time, that they were not “born again” but they have heard God speak to them and they would like to be, so Moses and I prayed with them. I felt really moved. My family has two more members.

We rushed from the church and jumped in the car again, this time bound for Kachok.

Kachok is the little tin shed church by the municipal rubbish dump in Kisumu. The very first time Nicky and I went to Kisumu we visited the dump and heard the stories of the men and boys who scavenge there, eking out what living they can from the plastics, bottles and metals discarded by others. 

It is a disconcerting place to walk into if you are not familiar with it. The hut is alive with flies, tapping out every worship rhythm, dancing around your feet and buzzing out their own songs.

But it is also a very moving place and, as I entered, familiar faces greeted me – John, Cosmas, Gurang, Daniel, Kevin, Mary, people I have met with here over many years, whose presence is a testimony to belonging to a place and serving a particular people.

Moses led us in worship again, the tin hut alive with song, with clapping and dancing. I greeted the people again, bringing news from the UK and a word from the bible. Then John invited Daniel to share a testimony.

I have written about Daniel before when I visited him at Moi on his first year at University as he was settling in. He is a wonderful young man. We met him when he was 12 years old, a street boy, finding food where he could. John had taken him under his wing and tried to help him and both Nicky and I met with him at Kachok fellowships over a number of visits. We agreed to support him through the Trust, first at primary and then at secondary school. 

Life has been hard for Daniel. His mother suffered a stroke when he was young and has struggled to support him. She is now in hospital and has been there for almost 6 weeks, having suffered a relapse. Daniel appealed to the local MP, who has helped with the hospital fees, but things have not been easy.

Daniel excelled at secondary school, gaining really good grades in his KCSE and is now in his final year at Moi University. Every week he comes back to this little church at the dump, to the place where his life changed. He shares his stories, he encourages the younger children, helps to serve the food and drink to those who turn up to the church. He is working hard, hoping to gain a scholarship to do a masters. I hope and pray with all my heart that he succeeds. “I want to thank you people for all that you have done for me”, he says, “if you hadn’t believed in me I wouldn’t be where I am. I know that your blood does not flow in my veins, but you have treated me like your son and I am grateful”.

In the Isaiah Trust we believe that our family is broad, that we are brothers and sisters together, irrespective of the distance between us or the colour of our skin. I might dance like a muzungu, but my brothers are African.

And no, I don’t need all that anointing oil. Not after today.

One Bright Morning

“That boy is really bright”, said Benjamin, the manager at Standard Bank in Kisumu, “He will go far”.

We smiled and swelled a little with pride.

We were on our way back to the airport for the morning flight to Nairobi, having visited the land at Kibos to check out the completed greenhouse.

We had sweated over the holes for the poles, sweated as we hauled the steel frame into place, sweated as we saw the arches rising tall over the freshly planted banana’s and the newly built tin hut. But we had left the site before the covering was on as the Ackworth group had a safari bus to catch.

But we couldn’t leave without seeing the culmination of our week’s effort, the fine mesh sides gently swaying in the morning breeze and small white egrets stalking gracefully in the grassy perimeter, still wet from the overnight rain.

Kibos is a warm place, but bathed in the morning light, pink and red bougainvillea bursting through the thorny hedges, weaver birds chattering in the acacia trees and the green, stony hills forming a steep backdrop, it takes on a charm of its own.

We opened the door of the greenhouse and wondered inside, surprised to find that the humidity that will so benefit the tomatoes and vegetables that we will grow there was already beginning to rise.

We have much more to do here, the soil inside will need to be dug out and new topsoil, red soil from the fertile hills above Kisumu, will be mixed with fertiliser and laid down to form a nutrient rich bed for our plants. The water tanks will be connected to drip pipes to provide effective irrigation, whatever the weather outside and then, finally the seeds will be planted.

“So will it be done by my next visit?” I asked Moses

“Yes, of course” he replied, “we have a lot of work to do now”

I am already excited to return.

We left Kibos to head for the airport, but we had one last job to do.

I wrote about Collins last year, when I visited him at University. We met him first, many years ago at Kachok, the fellowship by the city dump. He has already come a long way, completing his KCSE and gaining a place at university to study biochemistry.

During the break he found himself an internship at Standard Bank and has been working there for 6 weeks. I talked to him at church on Sunday and promised that we would try our very best to visit him before we left.

We made our way through the busy streets of Kondele and followed the back roads to town, pulling up outside Standard bank at the bottom of the high street. As we walked through the revolving doors the quietness of the bank contrasted with the bustling streets outside. We stood for a moment whilst Moses spoke to a member of staff and we were then ushered through to the Manager’s office.

We stood and talked with the manager for a few minutes. He explained that they had a short term program that needed extra people, so they looked for university students wanting to take up an internship. Collins had been asking around town for that kind of work and he fitted the bill (it is typical of Collins’ attitude that he didn’t wait for the opportunity to come to him, but had been asking if there was anything available)

“I know his background”, said the manager, “and I can say that he is a very bright boy. He is doing really well, I think he can go a long way”

I smiled.

Through this week we have seen more boys like Collins, bright children who just lack opportunity. I hope and pray that we can find the means to support them, to give them hope and a future.

“I know the plans I have for you", says the Lord, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future”

Jeremiah 29:11